Older forms of this character show that it was a combination of 虍 tiger, claw (backwards ヨ), and 几 (人) person. 虐 depicted a tiger catching/clawing a person, and came to represent “cruelty/brutality.” “Oppress” is an associated meaning.
Once, enslaving her boyfriend would have been unthinkable.
She used to have all of these little scruples: morals, restrictions, a sense of fairness. Scruples grounded in old-world thinking—small-boob thinking as they sometimes called it. Fairness just wasn’t the kind of thought you entertained when you had your own heavy pair of superiortits jostling over the neckline of your top. Each boob swollen with billions of intermingled neurons sparking need, and, lust, and pleasure across their soft expanse; endless hidden glands pumping their thick hormone syrup throughout her body and reminding her of what was important; other tiny chemical factories working overtime to fill the air with black-cherry booby pheromones. Her new tits incessant in their desire to stamp their imprint on the world, on her boyfriend, and on her own mind.
Even a single boob was bigger than her own head and one alone would have been more than capable of overwhelming whatever protests still echoed from her forebrain. Two made it hard to remember she’d ever been anything other than this: this big-boobed bitch who’s nipples throbbed so delightfully when she thought of how it’d be to have her boyfriend at her mercy, squirming and writhing between her tits. She knew, deep in her bosom, that it was entirely the right thing to do. Men deserved to suffer for their lust. They were silly, pathetic, horny things and it was right to take advantage of them, to show them how small and weak they really were.
She couldn’t even think of her lovely breasts as an invasive thing. Her blessing had been sudden, the new weight that had surged out from her body had defied everything she thought she’d known about the world. But she couldn’t think of them as something abnormal. They had simply taken their place as the most necessary part of her. Twinned queens taking up their rightful throne. Her chest proudly crowned by these jiggling mounds of pure lust telling her for the first time who she really was.
Once, enslaving her boyfriend would have been unthinkable. Now, when they were together, she thought of almost nothing else.
“Good. I want you to say that to yourself every morning and every night in front of a mirror. Twice a day you will look yourself in the eye and tell yourself what you just told me. I want it to really sink in.
"And the next time you feel confident enough to approach a woman, remember those words and walk away.”
